


I got a feeling

by Jamjar88



Category: Pearl Jam, Soundgarden (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27732421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jamjar88/pseuds/Jamjar88
Summary: from a request on Tumblr :)
Relationships: Chris Cornell/Eddie Vedder
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	I got a feeling

There was a gentle June rain fading away when they met at the playfield near Chris’ house. Eddie was tired, he stayed up into the small hours most nights writing to friends, practising guitar. And then he’d pass out just as dawn crept over the city, curled in a ball on the mattress he still hadn’t gotten round to building the frame for. A half empty can of Jolt on the nightstand, the record playing out as he drifted into an exhausted sleep.

And then he’d wake up, past lunch, and think - _today I’m gonna do better, I’m gonna sleep, eat right._ He’d go to practise with Mookie Blaylock, on the way in his old yellow truck he’d think about that damn band name, there had to be something better. He’d think back to all the past times he’d written about in their handful of songs, psyche himself up in the parking lot about how things were before. Then he’d go in and pour out his heart in that basement, four hours a day, five days a week. 

He felt like he was earning their respect, slowly. Mike was easier; the other guys were guarded, you could see why. That was OK. It’d come with time.

Then he’d make his way home, stopping at the burrito place or the bar or the laundrette. And then, often times, just when he was reaching for a second beer, or a third, in his half-empty rented studio - the phone would ring, and it’d be Chris. 

“Hey, you wanna go for a walk or somethin’?”

They’d meet, and walk. Go for beers if they had money. They'd talk, but sometimes they didn’t say a lot, it was just walking the dog, a way to connect. The loneliness - that was something they both shared. Not the only thing. Something about them made sense, that thing you rarely find. Connection. 

Today he’d walked all the way there, wanting some air. And he didn’t have a rain jacket, or an umbrella, so his shirt was sticking to his chest, and his hair was clinging to his neck in damp waves, he shoved it under a hat as he climbed the stone steps that led up to the gate where they’d meet. Chris was already there, holding a plastic bag, some jogging lady bent to pet his dog. All the guys joked it was just a chick magnet - like Chris even needed one. Eddie still felt nervous around him. Every time they met, he had to psyche himself up for that too. Chris made him feel smaller, less smart. Plainer. Not on purpose; it was just how he made everyone feel. He was beautiful, and Eddie hadn’t wanted a guy in a long fucking time, but- Chris. He was something else.

The first time he called Eddie up, Eddie had been so nervous, thinking - _what is this? This some kind of joke? I’m the shy new guy._ But that was the night Chris took him to every bar in town, all the places that were his, and theirs- Stone, Jeff. Andy. And it was like he was saying - _it’s OK. You can belong here too, with us._

“Oh my god, you’re so cute!” the woman was saying to the dog, bending low so her tits in that running vest were at best advantage in Chris’ eyeline. Chris just laughed, said something like - _hey, be careful or his head’s not gonna fit through the door any more_. Eddie stood there at the gate, kind of awkward. Running a hand through his hair, staring at the cracks in the concrete, waiting for Chris to notice him.

“Oh, you made it!” Chris called over. Eddie looked up, felt his heart kind of speed up a little. Like usual.

“Uh, hey. Yeah. I kinda got… rained on.”

“Hey, this is Seattle. It happens. You wanna walk?” 

Chris nodded goodbye to the jogger, who went on her way. Eddie nodded, fell into step with him and Max.

“I brought beers,”Chris said, with that glint in his eye. The bag in his hand clinked like glass as they walked. “The old al fresco. Get wet in the rain and pick up dog shit. Except, you’re kinda buzzed doing it.”

It was kind of just the way Chris said it that was so funny. That sarcastic Seattle thing. Eddie knew he was absorbing it too - hell, he’d probably get his ass kicked for it next time he went down to San Diego. 

“Hey, who said I was picking up dog shit,”Eddie said, trying a smile. “Plus I already had like two Blue Ribbons before I came out here, so-“

“Blue Ribbon, _man_.” 

Chris stopped at the edge of the empty baseball field, bent down to let Max off his leash. They watched as he raced across the dirt, a yellow blur of legs. “Now _this_ is an Irish red, you ever had it?” Chris dug a beer bottle out of the bag, held it out to Eddie. The glass was amber, the label had a harp and curling letters, some brand name so leprechaun-Irish it seemed like it had to be a joke. 

Eddie shook his head, took the beer. Chris had a bottle opener on his keychain and passed it to him. Eddie noticed the other keyring hanging next to it, a piece of cheap plastic saying I HOWLED AT THE MOON AT WOLF CREEK RAVINE. He chuckled as he cracked open the beer and put it to his lips. Max was far at the other side of the field by now.

“Oh, this is - um. What _is_ that?” Eddie asked, the taste strong and unfamiliar in his mouth.

“Probably maple,” Chris said. “You like it?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty good.” And it was. Like the smell of pine, or the salt breeze by the Market, it was that good-different. Unfamiliar, but you could come to love them.

Eddie licked his lips, that sweet-woodsy taste. It was starting to rain lightly again, the lightest kiss against his skin.

“So you about ready for the Moore?”Chris asked, drinking deep. He glanced at Eddie, that flash of his light-green eyes making Eddie glance away, suddenly nervous. “Don’t sweat it, it’s a hometown crowd. It’s gonna be good.” 

Eddie had a vague memory of pouring out his anxieties to Chris that night at some tavern downtown, how it felt to be this Cali transplant up on stage with the guys from Mother Love Bone, all the confidence he’d gained from the club circuit down home evaporating, the way it felt to play to half empty clubs and watch people wander out. 

Chris had listened. Said he got it: but, they really had something. And if Andy’s ghost was anywhere, it wasn’t up on that stage with them. It was sitting at the bar next to him, saying - _holy damn, that surfer kid has chops_. 

“Yeah, I think I am,”Eddie said, sipping his beer. “My guitar’s a piece of shit though. For somewhere that size.” 

Max was running towards them, his tongue hanging out. He jumped up at Chris’ legs and Chris ruffled his damp muddy fur, wiping his hands on his shorts then fumbling in another pocket for a dog treat. 

“Ask Stone, he’s got a few,” Chris said, nodding. “You gonna buy something new? I got a buddy at Guitar Center in Madrona.”

Eddie nodded, not wanting to say just how broke he was. “Soon.”

“Good to be home,” Chris said, after a silence. “Been on the road too much this year. Before, I felt like I was gonna go crazy, out there in Europe.” That was when he’d started writing their songs. The songs for Andy. He’d talked about it, close to tears in the corner of some dive bar. It had hit Eddie in the gut, to see him like that. “So what d’you think of Seattle?”Chris asked then, gesturing around. “Getting used to it?”

“Well the city’s great, but the _weather_ can kiss my ass, really,”Eddie said, honestly. 

Chris grinned. “Noted."

Max had finished the treat and looked up at Chris, wanting more. Chris chuckled at the dog. “OK, dude, that’s not how this works.”

Eddie took a swig of his beer. He was starting to feel a little lighter already, the warm buzz starting to crackle through him. 

“Hey, you think I could beat Max in a race?”he said. Chris looked at him.

“Uh, well - I’ll give you a treat if you do,” he said, that smile at the corners of his lips. 

“Oh, thanks.” Eddie downed a big slug of his beer, earning a grin from Chris, who fondled Max’s ears and took Eddie’s beer. 

“OK, get going. He’ll follow you.”

Eddie thought: _what the fuck am I doing, wrecking my Docs in a fucking field? This some kind of weird impress-Chris-dance? Well, yeah,_ he supposed, as he took off across the field. Max took off after him, easily overtaking him then circling back, wanting to play. Eddie’s boots slid on the mud and wet grass but he kept going, turning his face up to the rain, losing his hat somewhere on the way. 

Then he slipped, fell on his ass - his thin shorts sliding across the wet, his hands skidding to stop himself, palms grazing. He heard Chris yell behind him, then the loud breathing and pounding paws of Max, who appeared with Eddie’s hat in his mouth.

“Thanks, man,” Eddie muttered, taking it out of the dog’s jaws. He examined his muddy, scraped hands as Chris came running over.

“Hey, nice wipeout,”Chris said. “That was all part of it, right?”

Eddie felt the heat of embarrassment in his cheeks, furiously scrubbed his hands on his shorts. “Uh, something like that.”

“Nice picnic spot,” Chris said, crouching down next to him. “You don’t get the treat this time, though. Think my guy won this round.” 

He’d left the beers back at the edge of the field, his hands were empty. _Beautiful hands,_ Eddie thought, as he realised they were taking his, examining the scrapes on his palms. The casual touch made his heart jump. Chris’ long fingers tracing over his grass-stained skin. He was gonna pull away, but then he didn’t. Chris’ hands lingered in his. Then Max cut in between them, nosing Chris’ palm for treats, and they both laughed. 

“I’m good,”Eddie said, shoving his hands in his shorts pockets, the cuts stinging. “Just a scratch.”

“Only a flesh wound,”Chris said in a comedy British accent. 

Eddie smiled, stood up carefully, feeling the damp patch on the back of his shirt and shorts, thinking - _man I’m an idiot_. And then, _I didn’t fall on purpose, did i? Pretty sure that was not like, a conscious decision._

“You run like Goofy,”Chris said, as they wandered back across the field. 

Eddie laughed out, surprised.

“What, I’m goofy?”

“No, like- the cartoon dog.”

“That's so much better.”

“Lot of arm action.”

Eddie shook his head. “Wet grass, I needed to stabilise, get some traction.”

“Well, my dog’s a champion, so- there’s that.”

Eddie didn’t know if he was imagining the tease in Chris’ voice. “You flirting with me?”he said, eyeing him sideways. 

Chris didn’t blink. He just replied, easily-

“You finally noticed?” 

They’d got back to their beers. Chris picked them up off the ground and held Eddie’s out, Eddie just stared at him. His cheeks burning. Not sure what to say next. It had to be some kind of joke, that dry thing they all had up here. 

“Uh-“

“C’mon, let’s split. Cos you look like the chicken that crossed the road, rolled in the mud and crossed the road again.” Chris grinned as he took a drink. Eddie didn’t get it. “He was a dirty double crosser,” Chris added, and Eddie found himself laughing, at the stupid joke, at the fact he fell on his ass in a field in front of this fucking god. Chris’ eyes shining, he clinked his beer against Eddie’s. 

“To wiping out. And getting back up.”

“To that,” Eddie said, as they both drank. Chris called for Max, and they wandered slowly through the park to the other gate. Eddie could feel the adrenaline rising in him slowly along with his beer buzz. The sweet stickiness in his throat, the cadence of Chris’ voice and the closeness of him, the fact it was just the two of them. And what that could mean. 

“You been over to Volunteer Park?”Chris was asking, tossing a beer bottle in a trash can they went past, then pausing to open another. Eddie tried not to watch Chris’ hands. Or think about the thing he just said - _you finally noticed?_

“Nope. What is it?”

“It’s a big park. Pretty cool, they got like a museum, old water tower and stuff. My mom took me to see a Monkees tribute there when I was eight years old, so- she has a bunch to answer for.” 

“What was it called?”

“Uhh..” Chris’ forehead creased, thinking. “Monkee Business. Pretty original, huh?”

Eddie chuckled. “My parents were big into musicals. Took me to see Ben Vereen in Chicago when I was five or something. He came right up to us, I got a picture with him.” Eddie stopped, not wanting to push it, sound like an asshole. “Uh, so- I guess her dreams of my tap dancing future kinda died right around the time I watched a copy of _Tommy_ with my babysitter.”

Chris grinned widely, started singing the chorus of “We’re Not Gonna Take It”. Eddie joined in without thinking, their voices so loud in the empty park. Max trotted up to them, confused, and they both petted him, walking on. 

They wandered out of the back gates, up the street towards Chris’ house, Eddie conscious of the muddy patch on the back of his shorts every time a car drove by. Eddie had only been to Chris’ once, to pick up an amp with Jeff, and it wasn’t what he’d expected. Small, with doorways Chris had to bend to get through. Warm and cluttered like a home. Ticket stubs and Polaroids stuck to the fridge; the smell of coffee.

Chris opened the door and Eddie went to go wash his muddy hands. In the mirror above the sink he thought he looked tired and kinda drunk, but there wasn’t a lot he could do about it. He was just gonna borrow some shorts from Chris, have another beer, then go home. That was it. 

“Hey, Ed. Up here,” Chris called him. 

Eddie hesitated then went up the stairs, conscious of every creak under his feet, drying his wet hands on his t-shirt. Chris was in his messy bedroom. He held out a pair of black shorts. 

“You wanna try these?”

“Uh, sure. Thanks.” Eddie undid his shorts, slid them off and crumpled them into a damp ball, very aware of his thin old boxers and the fact that Chris was still standing there. He took the shorts and stepped into them, pulling them to his waist. They went past his knees, because Chris was a tall bastard. Or, because Eddie was a short bastard. Thoughts like this filling his buzzing head, when Chris said-

“I really wanna kiss you right now.”

Eddie stopped dead, his hands at the zipper of the shorts. He stared up at Chris. Thinking- _how do you get to be like this? So sure. And so beautiful._ And he had that feeling, like Chris could get him to do anything he wanted. He could say something like that, and Eddie would say-

“Do it, then.”

There was a moment when Chris scanned his face, checking in. Eddie’s mouth felt dry and sweet, his head light. He nodded. 

And then Chris crossed over to him and turned his face up, leaned in, gently pulling at Eddie’s tangled hair as he kissed him, his lips full and chapped and tasting of maple, taking Eddie right back to the park in the misting rain. It was a dry, soft kiss, tentative on both sides. 

Then, somewhere downstairs Max barked, and they both broke away, smiling, Eddie staring at the floor, at the faint stains on the carpet. Then looking up at Chris shyly, a wave of desire and excitement and adrenaline passing right through his body as Chris leaned in again, and this time kissed him deeper, his tongue running over Eddie’s bottom lip, seeking entry. 

There was a clash of teeth, an awkward moment where they tried to calm their need, find a rhythm - but it was a kiss that felt like that first time Chris had sat and drank with Eddie all night, showed him his city. It filled Eddie with that same warmth. And then, Chris’ hands at the hem of his shirt, sliding under, warm against his skin. Eddie gasped softly into Chris’ mouth, as his fingertips traced over Eddie’s chest and abs, making every inch of his skin feel alive. When they broke away this time, they were both breathing hard. 

“Uh, so- OK,” Chris said, taking the smallest step back. “That, um-“ He looked at Eddie for a long moment. “Are you good?”

Eddie nodded, trying to calm his breathing. He felt that shyness again, the kind that paralysed him. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“I’ll, um- I’ll just go see Max,”Chris said, going out of the room then downstairs. Eddie did up the shorts that were still hanging off his hips, shoved back his hair, head spinning. He didn’t want anything to be wrong. He went downstairs and watched Max crunch dog food in the kitchen, as Chris opened a couple more bottles of beer. 

“You wanna sit in the yard?” Chris asked then, opening the back door without waiting for an answer. Eddie followed him out, sat beside him on the stoop. Their shoulders were just touching as they sat, the tension growing by the second. 

All around them the night was darkening, the rain had cleared and the traffic had faded to a hum. It was just a scrubby patch of yard out here, but Chris had strung cheap lights around the fence, and when he switched them on it was like somewhere else entirely. Some magic hidden place. 

“So what was… that?” Eddie said, after a long moment. 

Next to him, Chris sipped his beer, licked his lips, thought.

“I got this feeling about you,”Chris said at last, staring out into the darkness. “I kinda act first, think later, so- that’s-“ 

He shook his head, fumbled in his pocket for a cigarette and lighter, offered one to Eddie who said no. Chris smiled as he lit up. He didn’t finish his sentence, but after a minute he said again - 

“I just got this feeling.”

Eddie remembered the sensation of Chris’ tongue sliding against his, the way his fingers ghosted the waistband of his shorts, and he shivered with his need for more. 

“I wanna kiss you too,” he said, looking at Chris. 

Chris’ light eyes met his, bright in the dark. He stubbed out the cigarette, then just kept looking at him, not saying anything. Like: _do it, then_.

It was a few moments before Eddie got the courage up. He leaned in slowly. Chris didn’t move. They were so close. Eddie brushed his lips against Chris’, then kissed him harder, felt him respond. When he braced himself against Chris’ hard chest he could feel his heart beating fast under his hand, and he knew - somehow, he just knew.

_I got a feeling about you, too._


End file.
